When Sunday Comes Again Read Online Free Page B

the car drove down the rolling driveway, “but you were very brave on that day, and you’ve been kind to me through this entire ordeal. Just knowing that Hezekiah’s killer is still out there somewhere makes it difficult some days for me to even leave the house. I’m still afraid, but knowing you’re here makes me feel much safer.”
    Dino tensed when he heard the words. “With all due respect, Pastor, I may have been brave, but it wasn’t enough. I failed you and Hezekiah,” he said, approaching the wrought-iron gate at the end of the winding driveway.
    â€œThat is not true. You did everything possible to save him. No one would have guessed in a million years that someone would shoot him in front of the entire congregation. It took an astonishingly bold person to do something that brazen, and no one, not even you, could have stopped it.” A faint smile crossed her lips as she spoke the words. “It was God’s will, Dino. We have to learn to accept it and get on with the business of living.”
    Samantha soon grew weary of comforting the hulking Dino. He recognized the impatient look in her eye when he glanced at her in the rearview mirror, and simply replied, “Yes, Pastor Cleaveland. Thank you.”
    The estate’s wrought-iron gate glided open at the sight of the car. Dino waved good morning to a uniformed security guard who was posted in the gatehouse. The man waived at Samantha as well. The tinted windows of the car shielded the guard from the look of disdain she gave in return to his greeting.
    Dino merged cautiously into a trickle of Mercedes, red Ferraris, SUVs, and the stray Rolls Royce. Three cyclists in full yellow, red, and black riding gear kept pace with the flow, demanding their rightful place on the single-lane road. The tiled rooftops of other estates straddling the hillside could be seen through dense trees on the left; and a sheer cliff dropping to the bottomless canyon below, on the right.
    As the two drove in silence, Samantha’s cellular telephone rang. “This is Pastor Cleaveland,” she answered in a tone befitting a recent widow.
    â€œGood morning, Pastor Cleaveland,” replied the apologetic voice on the telephone. It was Samantha’s assistant, Veronica Cotton. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”
    â€œI’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Is this something that can wait?” Samantha snapped.
    â€œI have Gideon Truman on the line, Pastor Cleaveland. He insisted you would want to speak with him.”
    â€œDid I ever tell you I wanted to speak with him?” Samantha snapped again. “I don’t want to speak with him, and tell him that I requested he stop spreading rumors that I’ve agreed to give him an exclusive interview.”
    With that, Samantha ended the call and rode in silence. The Monday morning Los Angeles rush hour traffic had subsided. Cars on the freeway moved at a decent clip. Dino was determined to get Samantha to New Testament Cathedral in the fifteen minutes she had anticipated.
    The car turned onto Hezekiah T. Cleaveland Avenue. The street had been named in honor of her husband three years earlier. I wish someone would knock down those street signs, she thought silently. I’m going to erase every memory of him from the face of the earth. In a year the world will forget he ever existed.
    To her left, Samantha saw the two-block-long and five-story-high New Testament Cathedral. In the midst of the dense urban setting, the church sat on ten acres of park-like grounds with cobblestone paths, rolling swaths of freshly cut grass, gurgling streams, and gushing stone fountains. A sweeping flight of stairs led to the glass entrance of the towering temple. From the street, a massive blown-glass chandelier could be seen hanging in the sun-drenched lobby. Writhing, spiraling cones of vibrant glass burst out in every direction from the light fixture’s illuminated core.
    Groundskeepers